A Very Darcy Christmas
by KincaidVic
Summary: Several unexpected guests cause mayhem during the Darcys' first Christmas at Pemberley, much to Elizabeth's consternation. Meanwhile Colonel Fitzwilliam is beginning to have feelings for Georgiana. The first six chapters are posted here. The book is available to purchase in ebook and paperback form.
1. Chapter 1

"Mrs. Darcy, there are people downstairs in the front hallway who say they are your parents."

Disdain dripped off every syllable uttered by Giles, Pemberley's butler. Elizabeth pretended not to notice. Every day the man demonstrated that he did not approve of the upstart county lass his master had married. In the months since William had brought her home as his bride, Giles's friendliest tone of voice could be described as frosty. On the other hand, Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, and most of the other staff had quickly warmed to her.

Elizabeth shot to her feet as her heart pounded faster. She had assumed her parents were safely ensconced at Longbourn for the Christmas season. What could have brought them to Pemberley unannounced?

She hurried from her sitting room and followed Giles down the grand front staircase, her heart contracting with every step. Her mother and father were indeed standing in the hall. Their rumpled, travel-worn attire contrasted noticeably with the grandeur of the room the inhabitants of the house called the marble hall, both because of the classical statues set in niches along the walls and because of the black and white marble squares that made up the floor.

It was an impressive room, meant to awe any visitors to Pemberley, and from the expressions on her parents' faces, it was having the desired effect. Elizabeth had been duly impressed when she had first arrived at Pemberley, but now the room tended to remind her of a mausoleum, grand and cold and forbidding. She and Mrs. Reynolds had recently finished decorating the room with holly boughs and mistletoe for the yuletide season. The greens helped to soften the effect of the room and make it more welcoming.

Elizabeth focused her thoughts on her parents. Why had they come without writing first?

Her father's careworn face relaxed into a smile when he saw her, as if her presence made the unfamiliar surroundings more bearable. However, the moment her mother noticed Elizabeth, she commenced fluttering her hands and taking rapid breaths as if she had recently experienced a terrible shock.

In other words, everything was quite normal.

Before Elizabeth could open her mouth, her mother launched into a torrent of complaints. "Oh my dearest Lizzy! You do not know how we have suffered! The ruts in the road and the quality of the coaching inns! And there was a most disturbing odor in Lambton when we traveled thought it!"

Standing by the ornately carved double doors, Giles watched this performance with a pinched mouth and lifted chin that left no doubt as to his opinion of the Bennets.

The best Elizabeth could do was to treat her mother's shrieking as if she spoke in a normal conversational tone. She embraced both her parents. "This is a surprise! I did not expect to see you so soon. Is something wrong?" She searched their faces for signs of agitation. Had something happened to one of her sisters?

"Everything is well," her father assured her.

Mrs. Bennet gaped at her husband. "How can you say that, Mr. Bennet? When we have heard the most frightful news imaginable?"

Fear gripped Elizabeth's chest. "What has happened?"

Her mother drew herself up to her full height. "Meryton is about to be invaded!"

"What?"

Her mother's head nodded vigorously. "Mrs. Long was the first one to rouse my suspicions." Now she lowered her voice. "There have been a great many strange men visiting Meryton—speaking in French accents!"

Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes. "Fanny, I explained both the men are laborers from Ireland. They speak with _Irish_ accents."

Mrs. Bennet put her hands on her hips. "And how would you know a French accent from an Irish one? Mrs. Long met a Frenchman when she was one and twenty. She knows what they sound like!"

"Mama—" Elizabeth began.

"But that is not all." Her mother continued. Colonel Forster's regiment had been wintering over in Meryton as before and then they decamped suddenly – called away. Just like that! I am certain they are in Brighton this moment preparing to fend off a ferocious French assault."

Elizabeth bit her lip to stifle a smile. "I have read nothing about that in the papers."

"Of course not!" She waved her handkerchief dramatically. "They do not wish to alarm the populace. But why else would they have called the regiment away?"

"There was political unrest in the North," Mr. Bennet murmured.

"Mrs. Long does not believe it," Mrs. Bennet said with a dismissive nod. "And, what is more— _Mr. Long_ does not believe it. He was in the militia for a year in his youth and said such orders were highly irregular.

"Fanny—" Mr. Bennet started.

Her words continued unchecked. "An invasion is imminent. Nothing you may say can convince me otherwise."

Elizabeth feared this was the truest statement her mother had uttered since arriving.

Mrs. Bennet continued without even taking a breath. "And, of course, Meryton will be one of the French army's first targets."

"Before London?" Elizabeth asked.

"Well, London will be well-defended. Meryton no longer even boasts a militia!" Mrs. Bennet flicked open her fan and vigorously fanned her face. "But we can stay here, can we not, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth did not know where to start unraveling her mother's convoluted reasoning. Her father offered her a defeated shrug and sympathetic head tilt. Apparently he had given up on reasoning with his wife.

Well, she would need to apply logic to the situation another time. "Yes, of course, Mama. I am very pleased to see you both!" She smiled at them. "Welcome to Pemberley."

Her father gave her a rather sad smile, but her mother grunted in response. "Now, if you will have them show me to my room. I am greatly fatigued by all this travel!" Now that their immediate fate had been settled, Mrs. Bennet was eyeing the hall critically. "Oh, Lizzy!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "You have hung greens already!"

"They make the house more festive," Elizabeth replied.

"But don't you know? It is bad luck to hang greens before Christmas Even!" Her mother's eyes were round with concern.

"Just a superstition—" Her father interjected.

"No it is not!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. She wrung her hands. "Oh, we are in for it now!" She pointed an accusatory finger at Elizabeth. "You have practically begged the French to invade."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Instead, she gestured to the butler to assist her parents. Perhaps her mother would be more rational after she rested and freshened up. One could only hope.

If anything Giles's expression had grown haughtier during the conversation. When Elizabeth sent him to ready the guest chambers, it was a relief to separate him from her parents. They exchanged pleasantries until a maid arrived to lead the Bennets to their room. As a maid led Mrs. Bennet up the stairs, she warned the wide-eyed girl about the imminent French invasion. Elizabeth and her father fell behind, staying out of earshot.

"I apologize, Lizzy," he said. "Trying to stop her was like trying to halt a runaway carriage. Finally she declared she would come to Pemberley with or without me. I thought my presence might mitigate the damage."

Elizabeth took her father's arm. "I am very pleased to see you both, Papa. And this will furnish you with an opportunity to see Pemberley."

He smiled gently. "Yes, I must confess, it was something I am anticipating with pleasure. What I have seen so far is quite grand."

Elizabeth gave her father's arm another reassuring squeeze, but her spirits sank. With Georgiana visiting Rosings Park for the yuletide season, Elizabeth and William had been anticipating a quiet Christmas celebration by themselves. Since Elizabeth had arrived at Pemberley after their wedding voyage, her life had been a whirlwind. She had spent much of her time familiarizing herself with the household and the servants, caring for tenants, entertaining neighbors, and the many other tasks required of Mrs. Darcy. William had been looking forward to having her to himself over Christmas, and the feeling was very much reciprocated.

 _Well, Mama and Papa are only two people_ , Elizabeth reminded herself. _And Papa will happily spend much of his time in the library. Certainly I can find a way to occupy Mama. Perhaps an occasional sleeping draught…._

Elizabeth and her father had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard quick footsteps tapping up the stairs behind them. Looking back, she found one of the footmen rushing toward her, brow creased with worry. "Madam, Mr. Giles sent me to inform you. Miss Darcy's coach is on the drive!"

Elizabeth blinked. Georgiana? What was the matter? Her sister-in-law had planned a visit at Rosings lasting for at least three more weeks, through twelfth night. Lady Catherine had cut off all discourse with William and Elizabeth, but insisted on Georgiana's company—no doubt to counteract their pernicious influence. Georgiana had assented in part because she hoped to mend the breach between her brother and her aunt, although William had told her not to bother.

Elizabeth turned to her father. "Papa, I must meet Georgiana's coach. Sally will help with anything you might need, and I shall see you at supper."

Her father patted her hand reassuring. Elizabeth quickly retreated down the great marble staircase. Georgiana was just entering the house as Elizabeth reached the hall. The slight woman was slightly rumpled from travel, and some of her blonde curls tumbled into her eyes. But Elizabeth was most concerned about the strain around the younger woman's mouth.

Elizabeth hurried to embrace her. "What is the matter, my dear?" Elizabeth asked. "Are you feeling quite well?"

"Yes, my health is good." Georgiana grimaced. "But William was correct. Aunt Catherine took every opportunity to disparage you and William. The larger problem, however, is that she had invited two candidates for my hand to Rosings—both distant relatives of hers. I could not stomach the prospect of three more weeks in their company."

This was one of the longest speeches Elizabeth had ever heard from Darcy's sister, clearly she was quite disturbed. Elizabeth squeezed Georgiana's hand sympathetically. "Of course not! Were they both so terrible?"

Georgiana sighed, pushing curls from her eyes. "I suppose not, but was not prepared to meet suitors, particularly without you and William to give me advice."

Of course, after the Wickham debacle, Georgiana would be reluctant to trust her own judgment about men. It had been very wrong of Lady Catherine to attempt to influence her niece's decision in that regard, but obviously she was hoping to circumvent William's authority. Elizabeth barely prevented herself from saying something cutting about the noblewoman.

Georgiana had ducked her head and was watching Elizabeth warily. "So I decided to come home. I hope you are not too disappointed with me."

Elizabeth gave her another hug. "No, of course not, darling. I am very happy to see you and William will be as well. He is out visiting tenants, but will be home for supper. We would have missed you at Christmas! Oh, and my parents have come to visit from Longbourn as well."

Georgiana gave a gentle smile. "I am pleased I will have the opportunity to meet them. We shall be a merry party!"

 _Yes_ , thought Elizabeth _. Especially if my mother would cease her talk about invading French soldiers!_

Georgiana gave her sister-in-law another hug. "And you have decorated so nicely for the yule season. Mama never hung greens before Christmas Eve."

Elizabeth smiled, but inwardly she considered that she hardly wanted another reminder of her decorating deficiencies.

Elizabeth was pleased to have her sister-in-law home for the yule season; certainly she should not have remained at Rosings Park if it made her uncomfortable. But she could not prevent a pang of regret over more loss of privacy with William. _But it is a big house_. Elizabeth watched Georgiana retreat up the stairs. _She is merely one more person. We shall hardly notice her._

Elizabeth had only taken one step toward the stairs when a brisk knock sounded on the door. _Oh no, what now?_ Elizabeth fervently prayed for a wayward deliveryman. Giles hastened to answer the door. Elizabeth instantly recognized the tall figure silhouetted against the pale winter sky. "Richard!" She exclaimed.

Colonel Fitzwilliam strode into the hall, beating some of the dust off of his clothing with a pair of riding gloves. "Elizabeth." He smiled and gallantly kissed the back of her hand. "I apologize for appearing so suddenly. But I received a letter from Aunt Catherine complaining that Georgiana left Rosings suddenly."

Elizabeth's brows knit together. "And you came to chastise her?"

He guffawed. "No. I came to congratulate her on her narrow escape." But then his face sobered. "And I was concerned that Aunt Catherine had done something that disturbed my fair cousin."

Like William, Richard was very aware of Georgiana's fragile emotional state. "I think Georgiana would be very pleased to discuss the situation with you," Elizabeth said.

Richard scowled. "So Aunt Catherine is up to something! Blast!" His eyes glanced up the stairs as if he could magically conjure Georgiana with his thoughts.

"You rode all the way from London because of a letter?" Elizabeth asked.

His eyes burned with a peculiar intensity. "I would ride from Spain if Georgiana needed me." Abruptly he shifted, beginning to unbutton his great coat. "However, heroic measures were not necessary. I was in Matlock for the holidays with my parents. I accompanied General Burke and his wife to Edgemont. They have long been friends of my family."

Elizabeth's eyes opened wide. She knew the war hero was a friend of Richard's parents, but she had not guessed they were that well acquainted.

"Well, you may ascertain Georgiana's state of mind at supper," Elizabeth assured him.

Richard's eyes again sought out the stairs. "Is she extremely agitated? Perhaps I should speak with her now."

"I think it likely she is indisposed at the moment." A faint frown troubled Richard's features, but he nodded. "Should I have a maid show you to your customary chamber?"

His easy smile returned. "No, I can find it myself. Thank you." His eyes wandered around the hall. "My mother would say that hanging Christmas décor before Christmas eve is bad luck. Although I think it looks lovely."

Elizabeth simply nodded. She had nothing more to say on the subject.

A second later he was striding up the stairs.

 _This was getting ridiculous_ , Elizabeth thought. Their hopes of a cozy Christmas alone were evaporating before her eyes. "We simply have too many relations," she murmured to herself. From his post near the door, Giles gave her a sidelong look. Elizabeth gave him a sunny smile; she would never let him know of her troubles.

With Mrs. Reynolds busy readying rooms for the new arrivals, Elizabeth determined that it was her responsibility to speak with Cook about additions to their party and alterations to the menu. Elizabeth had only taken one step toward the kitchen when a loud, imperious knock reverberated on the door. "Oh no," she groaned. "This is simply too much!"

Giles hastened to throw open the door; to Elizabeth's horror, Lady Catherine swept into the marble hall. Elizabeth managed to cover her mouth before she uttered a cry of dismay, but no doubt her expression was less than welcoming.

Lady Catherine was on the arm of a young, handsome, dark-haired man in well-tailored clothing. Behind her trailed a small retinue of servants and a scrawny, ginger-haired man in a garish blue coat. He absently carried several sheaves of wheat in his right hand.

Elizabeth strode across the hall and greet Lady Catherine with a curtsey. The other woman regarded her coolly. "Miss Elizabeth. I trust you are well?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said through clenched teeth. "And it is Mrs. Darcy now, ma'am. We sent you an announcement of the wedding, but perhaps it went astray."

"Hmph." Lady Catherine sniffed.

"We did not expect your ladyship." There was an understatement. "I understood you were to spend the Christmas season at Rosings Park."

The other woman disengaged her hand from the dark-haired man's arm and stalked into the hall, eyeing everything critically—no doubt searching for sources of disapproval. Elizabeth was grateful for Giles's fastidiousness for once. "And I understood," Lady Catherine said acidly, "I was to spend the yule season with Georgiana, but she fled Rosings and returned here." She eyed Elizabeth as if she had encouraged such behavior in her sister-in-law.

But Elizabeth was only now understanding the implications of Lady Catherine's presence. "You followed her all the way to Derbyshire?" Elizabeth said faintly.

The other woman regarded Elizabeth haughtily. "I was concerned about her well-being and I wished to reassure myself that she arrived safely home."

"I may assure you she is excellent health, so there is no need—"

Lady Catherine interrupted, giving no indication she even noticed Elizabeth was speaking. "And Georgiana barely had time to acquaint herself with Lord Robert, Viscount Barrington, or Mr. Worthy." She gestured to the handsome man and the scarecrow-like man, who ignored the glories of the marble hall in favor of examining the wheat in his hand.

Viscount Barrington at least had the grace to appear abashed. "I apologize for imposing on your hospitality," he said to Elizabeth. "My own estate is only a half an hour drive from here, so I can just as easily depart in the morning."

What could Elizabeth possibly say in response to this declaration? "No, of course we are pleased to have you stay."

There was a pause while every eye in the hall turned to Mr. Worthy. After several seconds he glanced up from the wheat. "I hope you do not mind hosting me, Mrs. Darcy. You have the most fascinating hybrid here—I found a few sheaves in the field on the way here." Lady Catherine cleared her throat. "And, of course, I am pleased to make Miss Darcy's acquaintance."

Elizabeth managed to keep a straight face as this declaration, but she did see Lady Catherine's lips tighten slightly. She could see why Georgiana might harbor some doubts about this "suitor."

With all of the unexpected visitors so far, Elizabeth had felt an obligation to take them in. However, Lady Catherine would present many difficulties. Not only did she bring a large retinue with her, but her presence would likely disturb Georgiana. "I am not sure now is the right time for a visit. Perhaps if you—"

"We have come all the way from Kent," Lady Catherine's voice was rising to imperious heights. "It was quite a long and arduous journey."

Elizabeth blinked rapidly. What was she to say in the face of such a declaration? "Of course, you are welcome to stay tonight. I will have some rooms made up." Maybe William would find some way to dissuade Lady Catherine from staying for the entire holiday season; he would not be pleased to find her here.

She turned to Giles, but before she could utter a word, Lady Catherine gasped. "Holly boughs before Christmas Eve! Why would you allow your staff to do such a thing?" She drew herself to her full height and looked down her nose at Elizabeth. "It is horribly bad luck, you know."

"I had not heard that," Elizabeth smiled sweetly at her husband's aunt. She gestured to the butler. "Giles, Lady Catherine, Lord Robert, and Mr. Worthy will need to be shown to guest chambers."

Giles glared superciliously at her, but then turned a charming smile on the guests. There was no doubt where he thought she ranked in relationship to the new guests. "This way, my lady, my lord, Mr. Worthy." He gestured politely up the stairs.

Soon Lady Catherine and her entourage were gone from sight; Elizabeth stood in the marble hall by herself trying to understand what had just happened to her yule season. Thus she was the only one available to answer the door at the sound of yet another knock. _At this point, I am numb to any more shocks_ , she thought as she opened the door.

However, she was immediately proved wrong when she saw standing on her doorstep…Mr. and Mrs. Wickham.

Lydia threw her arms around Elizabeth. "Lizzy! We were visiting George's friends in Lambton when we heard you were entertaining visitors for Christmas—even Mama and Papa! I was so excited. It has been forever since I have seen them!"

Words failed Elizabeth, so she merely opened the door wider to allow the couple to enter.


	2. Chapter 2

Even his horse was tired. Darcy could sense the animal's weariness in the way he plodded along the road back to Pemberley. He had traveled far and wide visiting tenants, inspecting fallow fields, discussing drainage issues with the steward, and many other little tasks that were incumbent on a good landowner. Darcy leaned forward to pat Zeus's neck. "You did a good job today, boy. You have earned some oats and a warm stall."

And I have earned a nice quiet evening reading by the fire— with Elizabeth resting her head on my shoulder. Some of the weariness left him a little at this image. Although Darcy had been eager to marry once Elizabeth had accepted him, he had not realized married life could be quite so…satisfying. The thought of Elizabeth at home—waiting for him—filled him with warmth and contentment.

The sun had set long ago; Darcy shivered a little despite his greatcoat. He had accomplished many of the tasks on his list today. Life at Pemberley was slow during the winter; he could carve out some time to indulge his new wife.

Darcy sat up a little straighter in the saddle, and kicked the horse to a faster pace. Soon they were clip clopping along the drive to Pemberley Manor. Darcy handed Zeus's reins over to a footman with instructions to give the stallion some oats.

As he strode for the front door he wondered what foods Elizabeth might have ordered for their supper. Soup? Beef? Perhaps a pudding? Since it would be the two of them perhaps they could have a tray in their sitting room upstairs. That would be quite cozy.

However, an unexpected sight greeted Darcy when he opened the door. Maids bustled back and forth in the upstairs balcony overlooking the front hallway. Footmen criss-crossed the marble hall purposefully. Giles's deep voice was giving orders in the dining room, although his words were imperceptible. What in blazes was happening?

A footman sprang forward to relieve Darcy of his greatcoat, but before he could ask the man if Elizabeth had sent the whole house into a frenzy of cleaning, he heard the murmur of voices from the saloon.

Could they possibly have guests? No one was expected, but had someone stopped by unexpectedly? A neighbor perhaps? Or his aunt and uncle? Matlock was not too far away.

Darcy was drawn by the sound of voices to the saloon, a large oval room behind the marble hall. As he entered the room he was treated to the sight of Mrs. Bennet standing and shrieking.

"It's the French! They're here!" She shouted as she pointed to Richard on the other side of the room. Why was he here?

Richard actually checked behind himself to see if some spy had snuck in behind him. Then his eyes widened as he realized Mrs. Bennet meant him.

"That is my nephew, you ninny," a voice Darcy recognized all too well rang out. His Aunt Catherine glared disdainfully at Mrs. Bennet. When had she arrived?

"He doesn't have a mustache, Mama," chimed in Lydia Wickham. Oh, Good Lord, it got worse and worse. "All Frenchmen have mustaches. Everyone knows that."

If Lydia was here that meant…

"Yes, by all means, Fitzwilliam I think you should prove you are not a French spy…" drawled the hated voice of Wickham from the sideboard where he was helping himself to some of Darcy's best brandy.

Richard advanced menacingly on Wickham, who shrank back. "I do not need to prove anything to you or anyone," he snarled to the other man.

"He does not sound French," Mrs. Bennet admitted. "Perhaps he is Irish."

Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes and handed his wife a glass. "My dear, here is some of that sherry you like."

A skinny red-haired man was the first one to notice Darcy standing in the doorway. "Mr. Darcy?" He bounced enthusiastically from his chair. "I would like to talk with you soon, sir! You have a most interesting blight!" The man waved a piece of wheat in Darcy's face, forcing him to take a step back.

"Not now, you fool!" Hiss Lady Catherine.

The man blinked at her. "Oh, is it better to talk about blights over port after supper?"

Good Lord, has the whole world gone mad?

"William!"

Elizabeth had appeared in the doorway, a little more careworn than when he had left her that morning. Some of her hair had escaped and was falling over her face. Dark smudges shadowed her eyes. Even so, she was a balm to his weary soul. He took both her hands in his and pulled her toward him, giving her a hearty kiss on the lips. When he released her, a faint blush was staining her cheeks.

"Really, William!" Aunt Catherine said in her most scandalized voice.

Darcy found it remarkably easy to ignore her. "Did you open a boarding house while I was gone for the day?" He asked Elizabeth with a smile.

Richard chuckled. "I cannot speak for your other guests, but I have no intention of paying for my room and board."

Elizabeth laughed too. "I am sorry I was not here to welcome you! I wanted to explain the sudden onslaught of guests."

She took him by the arm and walked him out into the hallway. Darcy did not understand at first why she chose to lead him away from their guests. But by the end of the recitation he did. "…My parents are here because my mother fears the French will invade Meryton and she thinks being further north will be safer."

She rolled her eyes. Darcy managed not to laugh.

"I am so sorry my family took it upon themselves to visit without an invitation," Elizabeth murmured.

"'Tis not your fault." He shook his head, although he could not help but mourn the demise of their quiet Christmas together. None of these guests could be easily persuaded to leave before twelfth night, except perhaps Richard—and he was the only one Darcy would keep.

It was quite an imposition, arriving at another's house uninvited and unexpected. It was a close call who had the more irritating laugh, Lydia or Mrs. Bennet. And then Wickham on top of that…It was not a pleasant prospect.

"We must discover a way to remove Mr. Wickham from the premises," she said firmly.

"Indeed." Darcy ground his back teeth. "Does Georgiana know he is here?"

"I warned her. She claimed to be equal to meeting him, but I could see that it bothered her." She sighed. "I do not believe we can do anything tonight, however. We must feed him and give him a room for the night."

Darcy nodded, despite his misgivings. "Very well. I will require him to remove to the Lambton Inn tomorrow."

"Supper will be served whenever you are ready," Elizabeth said.

He sighed. "Very well, I will go upstairs and change my clothes."


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth must have given the seating arrangements very careful consideration, Georgiana reflected, given the various personalities of the guests at the dinner table. Georgiana herself was near the head of the table, between her brother and Richard, while Mr. Wickham and his wife were near the foot, where Elizabeth sat. The man no longer frightened her as much as he had, but was pleased to be too far for conversation.

Richard noticed her surreptitious glance in Mr. Wickham's direction. "Do not fret, dear one. He can do nothing to you."

"I am not anxious," she assured her cousin. "I am mostly angry."

He smiled. "Understandably." He patted her hand. "Your best revenge is to show him that his presence does not bother you—and for him to see how happy you are."

"Good idea," Georgiana smiled at him.

As she leaned forward to grasp her wineglass, her eyes happened to catch Mr. Wickham's. He gave her a knowing smirk that was no doubt intended to unsettle her. Georgiana did feel a chill travel down her spine, but she did not want to let on.

With a bit of a smile, she leaned over to Richard and whispered in his ear. "Shall we make the scoundrel self-conscious by laughing about him?"

Richard's eyes darted to the officer, who was watching them warily. Then he exchanged glances with Georgiana, and they both burst into laughter. She found that it was actually quite humorous, knowing that he was unaware of the source of their amusement. When she did venture a glance at Mr. Wickham, he was staring fixedly at his plate, but the tips of his ears were red, a sure sign that he noticed their attention.

However, Aunt Catherine, seated across from Georgiana, shot them both a disapproving glare. Excessive merriment was unwelcome at the supper table as far as she was concerned. Unfortunately the gift of her aunt's attention was a double-edged sword. She raised her eyebrows disdainfully at her niece. "My dear, we were so surprised that you left Rosings Park as abruptly as you did."

All vestiges of mirth fled. Georgiana fixed her eyes on her food, taking up her utensils again. "I found as the yuletide season grew closer I could not bear to be away from Pemberley. I have always been here for Christmas."

Her eyes flickered to William. Was he angry with her for her precipitous departure from Rosings? His face was impassive, but she saw no shadow of disapproval in his eyes.

"You barely had an opportunity to make the acquaintance of Mr. Worthy or Viscount Barrington." She gestured to the two men. "You know, the viscount's ancestral estates are right here in Derbyshire."

This was at least the fourth time her aunt had relayed that information—as if propiquinty would be the primary criterion for choosing a husband. "Indeed? How interesting," Georgiana focused on cutting her meat into smaller and smaller pieces. In truth she found Lord Robert intriguing. While Mr. Worthy was impossible in every way, the viscount was handsome and well-spoken. But Georgiana had not had much of an opportunity to speak with him alone; her aunt was always present, directing the conversation.

Lord Robert smiled and looked about to speak when Mr. Worthy interjected, "My family's land is in Kent. It is very fertile."

William seemed to catch something in his throat and coughed loudly into his napkin.

"We have implemented all of the latest techniques in crop circulation."

One of William's eyebrows rose. "Crop rotation?"

"Exactly!" Mr. Worthy beamed at William as if he were a small child who had answered a math problem, rather than a powerful landowner who had corrected the other man's inaccurate language.

William hid his irritation by applying himself assiduously to his potatoes.

"Mr. Worthy's mother and I are great friends," Aunt Catherine intoned.

 _Is that the only reason Aunt Catherine is imposing this man on me?_ Wondered Georgiana. _She could not possibly believe we would make a good match._

She would have preferred to familiarize herself with the viscount, but he had become involved in a conversation with Mr. Bennet. Richard was engaged in discourse with Mrs. Wickham, so he could not help. Mr. Worthy regarded Georgiana like an eager puppy, awaiting her next words. Her palms grew sweaty. She had never claimed much expertise in the art of making conversation. What did Miss Annesley always say? "You may always ask the other person about his or her life. Everyone loves to talk about himself."

Georgiana wiped her mouth with a napkin and addressed Mr. Worthy directly. "What sorts of crops do you plant on your estate?"

The man straightened up in his chair and beamed at her. "Well, in our North fields we have wheat, although the steward has suggested switching those to corn. That could increase the yield by up to twelve percent. The east fields were fallow last year, but now we have them planted with a heartier variety of potatoes. And then in the west. Oh, I should add that one of the east fields is dedicated to barley because my steward thought…"

Half an hour later the occupants of one end of the table were still listening to the fascinating tales of Mr. Worthy's adventures in crop rotation. He related them with the superior air of someone who was condescending to share great pearls of wisdom that they should be grateful to receive. Georgiana cast a sidelong glance at her brother; even his eyes were glazing over—although he could usually converse on such subjects in great depth. Of course, this was a monologue rather than a discussion.

"…of course the market in rye has declined." Mr. Worthy paused to take a breath, but Georgiana had been waiting to pounce on the slightest lull.

"And what do your tenants think about such improvements?" She asked the man. Surely Mr. Worthy's improvements had created a vast deal more work for them.

"The tenants?" He echoed as if he had never heard the word before.

"Have they been supportive of all the changes?" She asked. Both Richard and William were now watching with avid interest. They must have had the same thought.

"W-why yes—Of-Of course! I believe so…." He stammered.

 _In other words, he had never asked them._ William always emphasized the importance of working with the tenants and involving them in any major changes on the estate. After all, it was their livelihood.

Mr. Worthy's briefly troubled expression gave way to one of renewed enthusiasm. "Oh, and I neglected to tell you about the new fertilizer we have been experimenting with!" Georgiana cast a look at her aunt for help, but the older woman's eyes were closed. Good gracious, the man had managed to put her to sleep at the dining table!

This would not do. If Georgiana had to sit through the man's ramblings, then her aunt must suffer as well. She glanced around the table for tools with which to enact a plan. Her eyes fell on a metal cover keep some rolls warm.

Reaching out her fork as if she were stretching her arms, she allowed the utensil to fall on the cover with a loud clatter. The noise startled Aunt Catherine awake with a jerk.

"As I was saying," she declared quite loudly to Mr. Worthy, "Georgiana is an accomplished player of the pianoforte. She will oblige us with some music after dinner."

"How wonderful!" Lord Robert chimed in. He had been speaking with Mr. Bennet on his other side, but now was taking fresh interest in their discourse.

Georgiana was not fond of being ordered around, but she was accustomed to her aunt's imperious ways, and anything was an improvement over the lecture on fertilizer. She seized on the change in subject. "Are you very fond of music?" She asked Mr. Worthy.

"Music?" He stared into space with an abstracted expression. As if she had given him a very foreign and exotic fruit to taste. "Music…hmm…I am not sure…." He frowned. "I suppose it can be acceptable to me…in small doses."

Georgiana and Richard exchanged a glance; his expression was so comical, she had to stifle a laugh behind her napkin.

"I love music," Lord Robert declared decisively. "I am particularly fond of Mozart."

Georgiana smiled at him to thank him for the rescue. "Yes, Mozart is one of my favorite composers."

Mr. Worthy cleared his throat loudly as if piqued that she had turned her attention to another. "I like Mozart too."

Oh merciful heavens! The man was impossible. "And what think you about art?" Georgiana asked Mr. Worthy. What response would he give?

He frowned. "Art can get quite messy. Particularly painting. I suppose drawing is not quite so troublesome."

Georgiana coughed to cover her laugh. Richard's eyes were dancing with merriment. The man who spoke at length about fertilizer thought art was excessively messy?

"Georgiana is accomplished at drawing," Aunt Catherine intoned.

Mr. Worthy seemed unsure what to do with this piece of information, but the viscount exclaimed, "Indeed? I must see some of your drawings."

Georgiana felt her face heat. She cast her eyes down in the way of demure young ladies. "Sir, you are too kind."

"I am sure they are magnificent," he said sturdily.

"How do you know?" Mr. Worthy asked peevishly. "You have not seen any of her artwork!"

Clearly Mr. Worthy did not understand the rules of empty flattery.

Even Aunt Catherine was miffed. "Georgiana's skills are quite advanced, I assure you. And her playing…"

She hated it when her aunt spoke of her like some cow she was hoping to sell to the highest bidder. If she did not stop Aunt Catherine now, she could continue in this vein ad nauseum. She cast an imploring look at William, but then realized he had left the table, most likely to consult with the butler about the meal.

"Sir," she addressed Mr. Worthy. "Did you know that Rosings Park has experienced a blight upon its potatoes?" The man's eyes widened in alarm while Aunt Catherine's mouth dropped open in shock. "And, I believe they have not rotated crops in their wheat fields for years!" Finally, a reward for enduring William's many conversations with their Aunt about modernizing her agricultural techniques.

"B-But, that is n-not—!" Aunt Catherine spluttered.

But it was far too late. Mr. Worthy had grasped the subject like a dog with a bone.

He turned his full attention on Lady Catherine. "Tell me the appearance of the blight. Spare no detail!"

On Aunt Catherine's far side, Lord Robert smiled conspiratorially at Georgiana. He recognized her maneuvering. But before she could engage him in conversation, Mr. Bennet said something to him and they were soon deep in discourse.

Georgiana was not unhappy. In fact, she was quite relieved. She finally had an opportunity to speak with Richard without interruption. He was grinning at her. "Cousin, remind me to never fight you in a duel. You show no mercy."

She looked about the table, but no one was paying them the least heed. "She brought the man to Pemberley," Georgiana said in a low voice, giving him her best innocent expression. "She should not be denied the benefit of his expertise."

Richard nodded in solemn agreement. "'Tis only fair."

She chuckled. "While you are here, we will have a match, will we not?"

"Of course. You merely need name the time and the place."

"Not tomorrow, but perhaps the day after—if the weather continues fine." Richard and William were the only ones who would shoot against her. Most men would be scandalized if they knew she could wield a pistol. "I have been practicing," she warned him.

"So have I," he said with a smile.

"Tell me stories of the war," she asked him. "William always believes it will disturb me. And the newspapers have too few details."

"It is not suitable conversation for a young lady."

Georgiana rolled her eyes. "I promise not to faint." Still he hesitated. Finally she placed her hand on his where it rested on the table. Apparently he was not expecting the move because he startled at the touch of her skin. "I pray _you_ do not treat me as spun glass. I am not as delicate as everyone believes."

"I know, dearest." He held her eyes, and something taut inside her chest relaxed, like a bow being unstrung. He did know she was not the fragile flower everyone seemed to see.

Finally he blew out a breath. "I will tell you some of what I know—what I am allowed to tell civilians. But you must do something for me in exchange."

She gave him a mischievous glance. "Would you like me to tell you what I know of the latest fashions in London? Or perhaps the most recent gossip in the ton?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "Spare me! No. I would only ask that one day when it is just the two of use you play my favorite piece for me."

She treasured those moments when they were alone together. This was a very easy promise to keep. "Of course. I will always play for you, Richard."


	4. Chapter 4

At the opposite end of the table Elizabeth was experiencing the onset of a particular headache she acquired only when her mother and Lydia were in the same room. Her mother did not seem to think it necessary to pause her discourse in order to chew her food, while Lydia was determined to enjoy as much of Pemberley's food as possible while her visit lasted.

Mr. Wickham had just explained that he would be removing to the Lambton Inn the next day.

"And why should that be?" Elizabeth's mother inquired as she applied herself to her plate. "You know, Lizzy. These beans are a little undercooked. You should speak to your Cook."

Elizabeth blinked. "I quite like them this way."

Mrs. Bennet shook her head. "Terribly bland." The last of the beans disappeared from her plate and into her mouth.

Lydia was heaping more beans on her plate. "I agree, mama. Quite bland."

She focused again on Mr. Wickham. "So, why must you be removed from our company?"

He granted her his most ingratiating smile. "It is Mr. Darcy's request, madam," he said smoothly with a little shrug that suggested he did not understand William's reasoning.

"I do not see why we should be deprived of your company," she said through a mouthful of beef. "It is most irregular." Her gaze shifted to Elizabeth. "Why would William be so high handed?"

Elizabeth gritted her teeth and reminded herself her mother did not know the full story of Mr. Wickham's deceit with Georgiana. Even so, it was difficult not to lash out. Keeping her eyes fixed on her plate, she concentrated on maintaining a low, even tone. "William thought it was best for all concerned."

Mrs. Bennet flipped open her fan and fanned herself vigorously. "But it is a terrible thing that my youngest daughter should ripped from my bosom!" _Oh, heavens,_ Elizabeth thought. _Next she will be demanding her vinagrette._

Lydia cut into her second helping of beef. "I shan't be ripped from your bosom. I will stay here at Pemberley—with you and Papa."

This was news to Elizabeth, but she was not surprised that Lydia preferred the comforts of Pemberley to the Inn. Silently she considered how much more beef Cook must buy.

Mrs. Bennet was hardly mollified as she chewed ferociously at a piece of meat. "But what if the French should come to Derbyshire?" She cried. "Who shall protect us if Mr. Wickham is not with us? He is a soldier in the regulars." She turned to Elizabeth. "Lizzy, this beef is hardly tender. I must speak with you Cook about how we cook beef in Hertfordshire."

Before Elizabeth could reply, Lydia laughed. "Mama, the French shan't come here."

Her mother nodded frantically as she cut more meat. "They will invade soon! Any day. Why, the very thought of it has quite demolished my appetite. Mr. Wickham must rally the footmen to the defense of Pemberley." The image of the liveried footmen defending Pemberley from an invading horde of French soldiers prodded Elizabeth to laughter, but she clung to her composure.

Elizabeth leaned forward to pat her mother's hand. "Colonel Fitzwilliam shall protect us, Mama. He has been fighting Napoleon for many years."

As she finished her last piece of beef, Mrs. Bennet cast her eye dubiously down the table at William's cousin. "But he is so terribly old! How can he lead the men to victory? No, we must keep Mr. Wickham here!"

Elizabeth wouldn't trust Mr. Wickham to defend them against a five-year-old boy with a stick. "The Colonel is not old, Mama. He is eight and twenty."

Her mother waved away this objection with a piece of bread. "You must speak with your husband about this immediately! I will not rest easy knowing that Mr. Wickham will not be here to keep us safe from the French marauders."

By now her shrill words had attracted the attention of the diners at the head of the table, who were all staring with different expressions of disbelief.

Elizabeth send an imploring look at her father, who, up until this point had been engaged in conversation with Lord Robert. She believed he secretly enjoyed the sight of his wife creating chaos for someone else. However, as his wife opened her mouth for another tirade Mr. Bennet spoke: "My dear, you simply must try this excellent Claret."

Elizabeth frowned. Her mother had an excessive fondness for claret, but it had a very fast soporific effect on her. He poured some wine into his wife's glass directly from a wine bottle. _Where had he obtained an actual bottle, rather than a decanter that would have been diluted with some water?_ Mrs. Bennet tasted the wine and then finished her glass.

"That is rather good. Quite a bit better than the other wine." She indicated the decanter on the other end of the table as her husband refilled her glass. "You should talk with your butler. The state of the wine cellars could be improved," she told Elizabeth. Her mother quickly gulped down the glass that Mr. Bennet had poured for her.

From the other end of the table William raised a quizzical eyebrow at Elizabeth. She simply shrugged. She would not interfere with her father's strategy. Hopefully her mother would drowse off before she said anything truly mortifying.

"Mark my words, Lizzy." Now her mother's words were slowing noticeably and slurred. "The French will come any day. You must prepare Pemberley!"

"I will speak with William about it," Elizabeth promised, although she would not promise to advocate any particular course of action to her husband.

"Good." Mrs. Bennet drained her last glass. Then her head fell abruptly down on the table and she began to snore.

Apparently not noticing, Lydia took another bite of a roll and asked, "Mama, when do you think the French will attack?" When her mother did not respond, Lydia grabbed her arm and shook her. "Mama? Mama?" Only a scowl from her father forced her to desist.

Elizabeth could feel her face heating and fought a sudden impulse to hide under the table. A quick glance down the table confirmed that everyone was staring at her mother and Lydia, including the Viscount and Lady Catherine. _Why, oh why could I not have been an orphan?_

Only William's gaze was on Elizabeth. She did her best to hold her head up high, but her insides shook unpleasantly. She had embarrassed her husband in front of his family—in his own house. Where was a hole to crawl into when she needed one?

When they had wed, she had promised herself that he would never regret it, yet here she was mortifying him after less than six months of marriage. And worse yet, she was not sure what she could to avoid such embarrassment. Aside from banning her family from Pemberley, how could she have prevented the present situation?

Her father was unsuccessful at waking his wife enough to take her upstairs. Elizabeth gestured for two footman to help him, but even they regarded her parents disdainfully as they helped her mother to her feet. How had Elizabeth brought such disgrace to Pemberley?

She thought longingly of her quiet, warm bedchamber where no eyes would watch her. But she was the lady of the house and had no choice about her actions. She rang the little silver bell by her plate. "I believe it is time for the sweets course."


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning Richard guided his horse along the path through Pemberley's woods. Although the trees had lost their leaves, they still had a kind of stark beauty silhouetted against the pale winter sky. Heavy clouds overhead threatened rain for later in the day. He always enjoyed snow during the yuletide season, but Richard appreciated the unseasonably warm weather they had been experiencing. The bite in the air was enough to clear his head without making him long for a warm hearth.

 _Tell me stories of the war._

When he closed his eyes, Richard could recall the husky tones of her low alto, the tilt of her head, the sparkle in her eyes. Everything about her was enchanting.

Months ago when he started experiencing such feelings for his cousin, he had attempted to forget them, to deny them. However, they were just as unforgettable as Georgiana herself. Whenever his thoughts were not completely devoted to some other subject, his mind would dwell on her—whether he was in her presence or far away on some war-related mission.

At first he had attempted to suppress such thoughts; she was officially his ward after all, although most of the actual raising of her had been left to Darcy. Immediately after the debacle at Ramsgate, Richard had been deployed to the Peninsula. Upon his return in March he had discovered she had blossomed into a beautiful young woman, with very strong ideas of her own and no desire to be guided by anyone.

Richard had found this more mature Georgiana very appealing, but had fought any romantic fantasies. Ultimately he had conceded defeat, deciding such thoughts did no harm if he confined them to his own mind and never acted on them.

At dinner she had been uncommonly lovely, wearing a blue gown that complemented her eyes and coloring perfectly. Richard indulged in a fantasy of touching the golden curls that had shone gently in the candlelight. Would they be as soft and silky as they looked?

He chuckled again as he recalled how she had neatly turned the difficult Mr. Worthy on their Aunt! It was brilliant. Georgiana was quite clever and surprisingly stubborn at times; it was a shame she did not have more confidence in her own judgment.

Fortunately Georgiana would not allow herself to be pushed into marrying a man as insipid as Mr. Worthy. However, the viscount was a different story. The reins dug into Richard's hands as he clenched them tightly. Lord Robert was quite an eligible match, with a good income and noble lineage—and an estate which would allow Georgiana to live near Pemberley. He appeared to be perfect for Georgiana in every way.

Richard hated him.

He ground his teeth. _She sought_ me _out for conversation and entertainment_ , he reminded himself. But he knew that any such reassurance was false. She must wed eventually. If it was not the viscount, it would be another man. Indeed, Lord Robert was surely only the first in a long string of men who would seek Georgiana's hand. Her dowry was one of the best in England. Men whose family fortunes were suffering would want her to shore up their finances, while the wealthy men would see it as a coup to win such an heiress.

Next year Georgiana come out and would officially be part of the marriage market. A familiar dread clawed at Richard's chest. _This is how it must be,_ he reminded himself for the thousandth time. _I must bow to the inevitable_. However, this repetition did little to ease his heart.

The thought of her coming out made his heart race and his palms sweat. What if unworthy men preyed upon her? What if she fell for a scoundrel? Although she could not be his, Richard wanted to be by her side as she navigated the treacherous waters of the _ton_. But, in all likelihood he would be on the Peninsula when she came out—and it provoked a unique sense of helplessness.

Richard shook his head to dispel the gloomy thoughts. The chances were good that all would be well. She would find a wealthy landowner or some duke's son, with whom she would be very happy. And she would never know the truth in Richard's heart.

Richard reined in his horse. He had arrived at the turn in the path where he must proceed on foot. He tied the horse to a tree branch and forged his way through the undergrowth, following the faint signs of a long-overgrown path. Despite all attempts to silence his footsteps, he could not help breaking the occasional twig underfoot or rustle the leaves of a bush as he passed. With any luck, however, there would be no ears around to hear.

He neared the lightning-struck tree at the edge of the small pond where he and William had enjoyed swimming as boys. The low tones of a mourning dove sounded from nearby. Cupping his hand over his mouth, Richard returned the signal. The other man quickly materialized so smoothly out of the woods he might have been part of the foliage. "Colonel." The man nodded his head in greeting. "A fine day for an outing." His French accent was faint but discernable.

"DuBois." Richard removed his riding glove to shake the man's hand. "Are you sure you were not followed?"

" _Non_." The man raised an eyebrow at Richard. "Are you sure nobody suspects _you_?"

"Everyone believes I am simply visiting family for yuletide," Richard replied.

"Very good," DuBois responded. "So we may proceed with our business."

Darcy straightened his cravat as he strode toward Pemberley. Wickham was safely stowed at the Lambton Inn, and Darcy had rented the room for a week. Hopefully the Wickhams would be gone by then. _At least that resolves one of my headaches_. Unfortunately, the number of remaining headaches was sufficient to keep him occupied for the rest of the day.

 _Why must Elizabeth and I possess such troublesome relatives?_ Darcy wondered as he neared Pemberley's grand front entrance. Or perhaps the better question was: why were the troublesome relatives the ones who visited? Why could it not have been Charles and Jane who showed up unexpectedly on their doorstep? Or some other reasonable relative like…? Darcy thought for a moment. As Georgiana and Richard were already at Pemberley, he could think of no other candidates.

The moment Darcy pushed open the solid oak front door, his ears were assaulted with a piercing shriek. "Oh, Mr. Bennet! You have no compassion for my poor nerves!"

Elizabeth's father stalked down the staircase while his wife fluttered behind him. Elizabeth trailed after them, rolling her eyes. _Perhaps I should have visited longer with Wickham_ , Darcy mused—and then immediately recognized it as a sign of desperation.

The moment Mrs. Bennet saw Darcy, she hurried up to him. "Mr. Darcy! How fortuitous you are here! You must begin drilling your men immediately."

Darcy blinked. "My men?"

Behind Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth had a hand covering her mouth. Was she trying not to laugh—or cry?

"This morning the maid told me that the footman had told her that his cousin had heard that the maid at the Lambton Inn said there was a Frenchman in town!" Mrs. Bennet announced triumphantly.

She paused to await his reaction.

"Indeed?" Darcy finally said.

"Yes! The Frenchman had lunch at the Inn yesterday."

"I see."

"Do you not understand the import?" Mrs. Bennet asked. "He must be a scout!"

"Scout?" Darcy asked blankly.

"For the invading force!" Mrs. Bennet explained. At this pronouncement, Mr. Bennet threw his hands in the air and stalked out of the room.

Darcy massaged the back of his neck with one hand. "There are many French men and women who live in England. Most escaped from the ravages of the revolution and fled the guillotine."

She lowered her voice. "But why would such a person be in Derbyshire—so far from the coast?"

Elizabeth rubbed her temples as if a headache were coming on.

Darcy decided to take another tack. "Madam, the French army is quite occupied fighting in Spain right now. I am certain they have no intention of invading England."

"But the paper described _unusual_ troop movements! And French ships have been spotted by people in Brighton and Dover!"

" _France_ is not far from Brighton and Dover," Darcy pointed out. "So one might reasonably be expected to see French ships from there."

Elizabeth chimed in. "Even if France were to invade, we are very far north here. It would take them a long time to reach Derbyshire."

"That is what they want us to believe," Mrs. Bennet said in a tone so low it was practically a whisper. "They want to lull us into a sense of safety—and then they will attack!"

"We _are_ safe," Darcy insisted. "We are very far from France here. I assure you—"

Mrs. Bennet interrupted him. "You must prepare defend Pemberley! Your footmen must train every day. Are any of your tenants versed in weaponry?"

Darcy sighed, beginning to understand why Mr. Bennet's response to his wife's tirades was often silence. "I do not know. Although my steward might."

She gave an approving nod.

There must be some way to distract this woman! Surely she could not think about imminent invasion every minute of the day. "Have you been to visit the shops in Lambton?" He asked her. "Mrs. Reynolds said the milliner just received some ostrich plumes."

"Ostrich plumes!" Mrs. Bennet's face lit up. While popular in London shops, the feathers were rare in the country.

"One of the footmen could escort you into town," Darcy offered eagerly.

She pursed her lips. "But they must stay and drill."

 _Of course._

"Papa can take you," Elizabeth volunteered. "It is the least he can do."

Perhaps there was a way to temporarily rid them of another troublesome guest. "Would Mrs. Wickham like to go as well?"

"An excellent suggestion!" Mrs. Bennet cried and ran for the bottom of the stairs. "Lydia! Lydia!" Her voice echoed and reverberated off the marble throughout the hall.

Darcy winced as Elizabeth gave him an apologetic look. While Mrs. Bennet made a commotion bellowing and ascending the steps, Darcy sidled over to Elizabeth. "Do you recall those ostrich plumes we bought for Georgiana that she did not care for?" Elizabeth nodded, understanding dawning in her expression. "Would you be so good as to ask Mrs. Reynolds to collect them and send them to the milliners immediately? I believe I can delay your parents' departure sufficiently."

Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with mischief as she set off in search of the housekeeper.


	6. Chapter 6

Georgiana was weary of hiding in her bedchamber. After the tiresome conversation at dinner the night before, she had resolved to avoid Aunt Catherine, the viscount, Mr. Worthy and, of course, Mr. Wickham. But keeping this resolution had required her to remain ensconced in her rooms for most of the morning.

She had finally descended the stairs, hunting for companionship and eager to show someone her latest landscape drawings. Any friendly face would suffice. Perhaps Elizabeth or William or Mr. Bennet, who seemed kindly and of a good understanding.

But, where was Richard? He had ridden out early, and she had expected him back before now. He always appreciated her drawings, pointing out features he particularly appreciated. And perhaps she could confide to him how uneasy she felt when confronted with two suitors.

Carrying her drawings, Georgiana ventured into the gallery, which was devoid of occupants. It was a long, narrow room, painted a vivid blue and lined with paintings of her ancestors on one side and a row of windows on the other.

Even when it was overcast like today, it was a pleasant room. She stared out the nearest window, watching the relentless drip-drip of rain onto the soggy lawn outside. It was not pouring, but surely it was enough to encourage Richard to return from his ride. _What if he is avoiding me? What if I annoy him with my immaturity?_ Perhaps he did not believe that fleeing Rosings was the behavior of a mature adult.

William was a wonderful brother, but he was so concerned about her future that he never simply _listened_ to her. Georgiana loved Elizabeth as well, but she was very caught up in her new life as mistress of Pemberley. Only Richard seemed to understand her fears about the future—coming out and choosing a husband—and her anxiety about disappointing everyone.

Or had he been indulging her? Did he still see her as a small girl he needed to watch over? Her chest tightened at the thought.

 _He never shows any signs of feeling more than friendship_ , she reminded herself. He listened attentively and sympathetically. But he dances with elegant women at balls and escorts them to the theatre. _I will never be like them_.

And yet a foolish part of Georgiana could not help hoping for something else. It was a silly, girlish fantasy that she must set aside. _I am a woman of marriageable age. I must be rational; there are plenty of other men who would gladly court me._

A throat was cleared behind her. Could it be Richard?

Georgiana whirled around. Lord Robert and Mr. Worthy stood in the doorway, watching her avidly. Her feet itched to flee the room, but now was a good time to exercise her new resolve.

"Miss Darcy," Mr. Worthy gave a slight bow. "A lovely day, is it not?" Behind him, Lord Robert's lips twitched.

Georgiana glanced at the rain, which had grown heavier. "It would be lovelier with sunshine."

Mr. Worthy crossed the room, gesturing dramatically out the window. "Oh, do not say so! For the rain is most beneficial to the crops. Without rain no wheat would grow."

Georgiana blinked. "In December?"

On the other side of the room the viscount appeared to examine the family portraits with great interest, but he did hide not hide his smile.

Mr. Worthy scratched his head, momentarily nonplussed. "Well, of course, there are no crops now, but the water falling now will help the wheat grow in the spring."

Georgiana could summon no response to this conversational sally; her interest in crops had already been exhausted. She gazed out the window once more. "Most artists prefer to draw sunny days, but I enjoy drawing landscapes in the rain. It changes the quality of the light and intensifies the colors."

He frowned as if she spoke a foreign language. "Rain is beneficial." He insisted as though precipitation could not be artistic and beneficial at the same time.

"Indeed," she agreed blandly, glancing sidelong at the viscount, who was still perusing paintings. Surely he would rescue her from this conversation soon!

"My estate comprises nearly 300 acres," Mr. Worthy remarked suddenly.

How could she respond to such a non sequitur? Georgiana pictured what Mrs. Annesley would say.

"How nice for you," she said finally. Of course Pemberley was more than 800 acres.

Nodding his head absently, Mr. Worthy stared at the wet lawn outside the window. "I wonder how much rain has fallen."

"There is a rain gauge in the garden," Georgiana said.

The man's whole face lit up. "Indeed?"

"Yes, the head gardener can show it to you. Mr. Giles would know where he is."

"I _have_ been meaning to discuss fertilizer with the gardener!" Mr. Worthy rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation. "If you would excuse me." He gave her a little half bow and strolled out of the room.

Lord Robert watched the other man leave and then gave Georgiana a small smile. "I hope you are not offended that Mr. Worthy finds rainfall totals more interesting than conversation with you."

"Not at all!" Georgiana laughed. "My companion, Mrs. Annesley, says there is someone for everyone. So perhaps there is a woman somewhere who finds rainfall totals and fertilizer to be the language of love."

He gave her a broader smile. "She would be a most singular young lady." His eyes sought hers; they were quite a vivid blue. "But I do not believe such discourse is the way to _your_ heart."

As her face heated, Georgiana dropped her gaze to her shoes. Was it quite proper that he was discussing how to reach her heart?

The viscount appeared to be quite at ease, however. He indicated the landscapes clutched in her hand. "Are those some of your drawings?"

Georgiana had forgotten them. "Y-Yes."

"May I?" Gently extracting them from her grasp, he held them up to the light to examine them. "Oh, these are quite delightful, Miss Darcy. I particularly like the way you dappled the light in this one…And the texture in the tree. Quite well done." He laid the drawings on a nearby table.

Of course he sought to flatter her; it was all part of the courtship dance, and yet his compliments still warmed her heart. "I do not give praise lightly," he insisted, tilting his head to meet her eyes.

"I thank you," she murmured, keeping her gaze downcast.

"So modest. I find it quite enchanting." From the sound of his voice Georgiana knew he had moved closer.

Should I step away? Is this proper? Do I even want him to be closer? Courtship was so confusing!

Unexpectedly Lord Robert caught her hand, pulling her closer. She opened her mouth to object, but he pointed upward.

Oh heavens! They were standing under a kissing bough, complete with oranges, ribbons, and mistletoe.

"I believe I may claim a kiss." Before Georgiana could protest, he had pressed his lips against hers. She allowed the kiss; it would tell her more about this puzzling man. Yet, she was unsure about the kiss itself. Is it pleasant or unpleasant? Should I want more from him or pull away? Should I be feeling something different or is this all there is?

Kissing was so confusing. Georgiana could never know if she was supposed to want it or not. She was supposed to be demure and maidenly, but if she was expected to always avoid kisses why was the tradition to hang mistletoe everywhere?

Mr. Wickham had kissed Georgiana exactly three times, when he convinced her that he was in love with her. Those kisses had been pleasant, although the memory had soured when she recognized his insincerity.

The viscount's kiss, however, did not seem to share the passion of Mr. Wickham's kisses. _But what do I know of passion?_ Mr. Wickham's passion had ever been false. However, Lord Robert's kiss was quite nice—and ultimately unobjectionable.

Finally the viscount released her with a gentle smile. "I pray you forgive my presumption," he begged. "You presented such a pretty picture silhouetted against the window; I could not help myself." He reached up to pluck a berry from the mistletoe with a mischievous smile.

Now that the kiss was finished, she was still unsure how she felt about it. She found it equally difficult to settle on how she felt about the man. She only stared at him, breathing hard and wishing she could find her voice.

"Miss Darcy?" He regarded her with a furrowed brow.

"Lord Robert, I just recalled that I must help Elizabeth with something. I pray you excuse me." Before he could reply, Georgiana turned on her heel and strode from the room.


End file.
